


Bosque de Muerte

by Apollyon_Apparition



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Curses, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollyon_Apparition/pseuds/Apollyon_Apparition
Summary: Prompt; ‘John is under a terrible curse. Smii7y knows how to cure it.’This fan fiction is mostly incomplete but I thought to post it as I am proud of the work put into it, plus it seems better this way as wellPlease let me know if there are an SPG errors and I'll see right to it





	Bosque de Muerte

**Author's Note:**

> Some things to take into account:  
> \- In this Smii7y's name is just Lucas  
> \- Both Smii7y/Lucas and John are in a platonic relationship (mainly bc I don't know how to write romantic relationships)  
> \- I apologies if any of these characters (mainly John) is OOC; I will work on fixing that. 
> 
> Now let the story begin:

“LUCAS HELP SOMETHING HAPPENED” 

This was all the mythical shopkeep heard before the dark, behemothic, wooden, door was swiftly open then slammed shut by the long haired warrior, who usually smelled of smoke. The red wind upon the door’s sudden closing traveled in a flash and carried itself around the room, blowing out the angry orange flames that burned over delicate, clear, white wax candles. It dimmed the room till a comforting, territorial shadow was floating carelessly with the spiralling air. John’s silhouette was all Lucas could see as the taller man walked towards him.  
“Dude, you have to help me, something happened and… and..” John stuttered out loudly, trying to collect his thought within fallen words. It looked like John tried to reach out to touch Lucas but his arms were pulled back, almost as if there was a narcotic, numbing cord wrapped around his burning wrists.  
“John, buddy, relax,” was all Lucas could say in an attempt to comfort his distressed friend, “Take a deep breath and say what’s on your mind.”  
“No, I can’t.. I don't think I’m strong enough, bro…”  
“Dude you literally drove out the Sluagh last week, even though Jay did help you, I’m pretty sure you’re strong enough.”  
“No you don’t get it, you don’t know what I look like!”  
“Well I would've known if you hadn't slammed my door shut so quickly that the wind made a fucking beeline for the goddamn candles”  
“How about you relight the goddamn candles, then you’ll see,” John said. Well ‘said’ was an understatement; John spat out that sentence angrily at him.  
“Fine!” Lucas lowly clamored back before snapping his fingers. Upon the sharp click a sound echoed throughout the room and the candles re-lit a choleric white. Lucas gasped in presentiment upon seeing what his friend had become. 

The taller man still kept his height, even in a slouched position; he looked to be hunched over because of some sort of abiding laceration coursing through him. His light tan skin was now as ghostly grey as the Banshee’s herself but, where visible, capillaries and veins popped out grievously in a haunting blue shade. Not to mention his skin, especially his face, looked like it was being forcefully pulled back by callous hands. It almost seemed like there were a variety of insects crawling inside of him, like his flesh was just a thin sheet over a worn, infested, grimy bed. One of his eyes were discernibly sunken, while the other one was present in concealment. However both glowed a dull cyan colour, transparent scarlet tears streaming down his tautened face. There was some hollow duskiness dotted all over him, almost as if the darkened bristles of a paintbrush were thrown back and released, the black paint covering him in dissimilar drops. His roseate lips were now bruised cerulean and mauve, the sides looking as if they are stitched with invisible string and moulded into various, painful expressions. His usual flowing, short, blond hair was now just in plain stands, almost as if someone took a bucket of water from the Fountain of Aisling in the middle of the town and poured it over him. He looked like death, but sadly (or thankfully) death discarded him and now he is slowly decaying like a chrysalis monster’s sentient cadaver.

Lucas covered his mouth, milk white skin contrasting with light peach lips. His features were naturally pale as he spends most of his time inside the shop, unlike his friend who stays outside adventuring freely. However, now his friend looked like hell’s reject. “John…” was all he could mutter out as tears brimmed his brown eyes at the sight of his friend. He quickly wiped them away.  
“Now do you see why I need your help?” John asked, his voice becoming more hoarse and scratchy as he spoke, “Everyone is going to think I'm an outcast, being punished for the past or for what my father did or some shit like that..”  
“Even if they did, they already know that your father was a nice guy, they'd probably think it was just… just…” Lucas racked his brain for the correct word.  
“A curse?” John nonchalantly answered him in a question format.  
“Yes, a curse, so- Wait, curse?!” He exclaimed.  
“Yeah this is a curse”  
“How the hell did you get a curse put on you?”  
“Remember the forest every kept on saying never to, like, venture too deep into?”  
“You did not”  
“I did”  
“John, how did you fuck up that badly to ever want to go in there?”  
“I don't know Lucas, I got really curious”  
“Curiosity killed the cat”  
“But satisfaction brought it back”  
“John we don't have time to discuss dead cats because you seem to be one in a second”  
“Wow thanks for the reminder, bud” John was gradually seeming to cough haltingly now.  
“You’re welcome you fuck, now in order for me to give you a cure you need to tell me exactly what happened”  
“Are you serious? Can't you just give me something now?”  
“I can't since I don't know how exactly you got yourself fucked up and I don’t want to make it worse!”  
“Alright fine; here's what happened,” John cleared his throat a tiny bit, in an attempt to speak and to not cough, and his insipid eyes started into Lucas’ prone ones. He then began to tell his tale:

The burgeon charlatan trudged guilelessly towards the bosque de muerte in a contumacious manner; feckless in the equipment brought by his side, which if you’re wondering is nothing but a frail sword, but the zealous man wanted to leave Guarida village as soon as he could before the town Spinsers came out to stop him, saying that those who enter come out in pandemonium or ailment. Little do they know he can take the forest on. Little does he know, he can’t.  
As he guilelessly sauntered into the beguilingly normal forest he inspected all that was around him. The auburn, husk trees stood tall and towering, but beautiful nevertheless. The tree’s branches shot out of its trunk like the arm’s of immortal reaching towards the azure, reaching for some sort of solace within the silver sky.  
The wildlife gandered carelessly through the shrubbery like they own every leaf that lands on the weathered ground, unknown of man’s existence. There were fawn skating confusedly over frosted lakes while squirrels rush up the reaching trees of alive and dead quintessence. All of them, however, ran for cover (the fawn much slower to all others as their little feet wouldn't cooperate with the stubborn ice) as soon as the ultramarine being cut through their path, unknowing of his disrupting nature.  
The sky peeked through the jade, floating bushes that are cast upon nature’s towers, the colour cerulean and sere, a regular yet puzzling scene for even the most hubristic, educated man in the world. The day was bright. Was. Soon it transitioned to an early night, like it had been painted with a clean, dark cinereal brush which hides in the foreshadow. The hero thought that in order to remain safe, he should pardon himself from the forest and quickly head home (obviously in a less polite manner as regal indoctrination are something not taught to many growing boys from his village) but whenever he spun around on his heels, he noticed the path behind him had vanished. Crunchy leaves and ever growing trunks covered the ground behind him like vines over a loose bear trap, and he was now the prey that fell unknowably unfortunate to his own fate, but he decided to venture forward; bad choice.  
The sky continued to grow dark, and grim, and haunting, just as the garbled stories told, however even as fear bubbled inside him like a boiling stove harbouring humid water for the sick’s throat, he pressed on. Soon he came to a lake which was melancholy grey with gloom, yet he wasn't alone. There was another entity in front of the lake. She seemed to be a meretricious woman, not dowdy with her appearance, and her clothing style was between rags and wheedling. He wasn't sure if he should approach her or not, as he could accidentally scare her off.  
He decided to just talk instead.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! Hopefully I'll finished it soon. 
> 
> If there are any SPG errors, a pairing you would like to see me write in the future, or just want to leave a comment them you can comment below or DM me on tumblr at soft_snake
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! :D


End file.
